


damage control

by kaggleyama



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Single Dads AU, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6435067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaggleyama/pseuds/kaggleyama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his sister leaves, Akaashi is stuck taking care of her son. He tries to make the best of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	damage control

**Author's Note:**

> another one for [tumblr](http://tsuk-kei.tumblr.com/post/142118382370/bokuaka-single-dads-au)

Neither of them remembers the first time they met, when they bumped into each other on the street. A quick apology was murmured before both went their separate ways, the moment no more significant than tripping over a loose stone in the sidewalk. Back then, Bokuto was still happily married and Akaashi had no plans of having children in the near future. 

It’s amazing how much can change in just a couple of years. 

“Tell me, Akaashi-san” Takeda steeples his fingers together and leans his elbows on the desk in a gesture that seems to be universal to teachers. “How are things at home?”

It doesn’t seem like the kind of question a teacher would usually ask the guardian of one of his students. Then again, Akaashi’s situation _isn’t_ usual. “It’s been – difficult,” he admits. It’s a huge understatement. 

“I thought that might be the case. Tobio-kun has been acting up in class lately.” Takeda attempts a reassuring smile. “It’s understandable, of course. Losing his mother so suddenly is bound to make him feel confused and angry.”

Akaashi swallows down the wave of bitterness rising in his throat. The way Takeda phrases it makes it sound like his sister died, when she really just – ran away. She ran off to elope with some low-life trucker, leaving her son – her _child_ – behind in Akaashi’s care. 

“He hasn’t been taking it well.” He recalls the stubborn silences, the glares, the curses. Things were so much easier when he was just Tobio’s uncle. 

God, he really isn’t ready for a kid. 

Takeda stares at him in a way that reminds Akaashi of when he was still in middle school himself. Teachers have this way of seeing right through a person, prying them open to look right at the heart of things. “And you?” Takeda asks. “It can’t be easy for you, either. How have you been handling things?”

He hasn’t, really. Aside from a few awkward attempts at starting a conversation, he and Tobio haven’t really talked. Akaashi leaves microwave dinner in the fridge when he has to work late, brings a plate up to Tobio’s room in silence when he doesn’t. He knows Tobio hasn’t been doing his homework – hasn’t been doing much of anything – but he can’t bring himself to say anything about it.

Tobio already hates him. He doesn’t want to make it worse. 

“I’ve been trying,” he says, which is as close to the truth as he can get without admitting to being a horrible parental figure. 

“I see.” There’s a long silence before Takeda sighs and reaches for a notepad and a pen. “I think it would be good for Tobio-kun to talk to somebody about what he’s going through. If you’re uncomfortable doing that,” he scribbled something on the first page of the notepad, before tearing it off and handing it to Akaashi. “You could always send him to a psychologist.”

Akaashi takes the paper with fumbling fingers. It feels like admitting defeat. 

“As for you,” Takeda continues. “If you’re having trouble, you could always try talking with some of the other student’s parents. I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”

“Thank you, sensei.” Akaashi stands, feeling numb all over. He shakes Takeda’s hand and they exchange a few more meaningless words that hardly sound like more than buzzing in his ears. He leaves the office with the phone number clutched tight in his hand, feeling overwhelmed and unsteady on his feet. 

He bumps into somebody in the hallway and nearly falls over. Warm hands landing on his shoulders are the only thing that steady him. Akaashi looks up at a smile so wide it almost looks painful and his breath catches in his throat. 

“You alright, there?” The man’s smile drops a little in his concern. It’s enough to bring Akaashi back to his senses. 

“Yeah – yes, I’m fine. Thank you,” he says, then ducks out from under the hands with a murmured “excuse me.”

As it turns out, they’re second meeting is very similar to the first. The difference is that, this time, they remember. 

 

For Bokuto, it doesn’t really start until a few days later, when his son comes home from school and declares, “I’m going to be friends with Kageyama.”

This being the first time Bokuto has ever heard that name, he’s understandably confused. “Who?”

“Kageyama,” Shouyou repeats, like that should be all the answer he needs. When Bokuto only looks more confused, he responds with an eye roll that would have people much older than his twelve years feeling ashamed of their stupidity. Good thing Bokuto is immune to that.

Um.

“He’s in my class.”

“Right,” Bokuto pretends he has a clue what his son is talking about. “Of course. Kageyama from your class. I’m sure he’s very nice.”

Shouyou grimaces. “He’s really not.”

This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. It seems like Shouyou meets someone new he’s determined to befriend at least once a month. Usually, though, he’ll go on and on about how nice and cool and awesome they are. So, this – this is a little weird. 

“He’s kind of an asshole, actually,” Shouyou adds, frowning into the distance.

“Language,” Bokuto admonishes. He shakes his head with a sigh. “Where do you even learn those kind of words?”

Innocent as ever, Shouyou just blinks at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay,” Bokuto says. “I’m not letting Kuroo anywhere near you ever again.”

Shouyou whines something about unfairness and, just like that, they’ve moved onto a different topic, the previous conversation all but forgotten. 

Of course, he should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it. 

 

Bokuto is pretty sure his son has some kind of magical friendship powers because, barely a week later, a tall, moody kid who his son introduces as Kageyama Tobio appears in his home. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Kageyama-kun,” Bokuto says. All he gets is a grunt in response. “Um. Would you like something to drink?” he tries again. This time, Kageyama just glares. 

God, Shouyou really wasn’t kidding when he said Kageyama was kind of an asshole.

Bokuto shakes himself the moment the thought crosses his mind. It’s not the kind of thing someone in his forties should think about a twelve year old. 

As if sensing the awkward mood, Shouyou grabs Kageyama by the arm and starts dragging him upstairs towards his room. “We’re going to play video games now bye dad.” He rushes the words out all in one breath, without giving Bokuto any room to respond. 

They don’t come back down until hours later, when Kageyama leaves without saying a word. After he’s gone, Bokuto watches Shouyou sigh deeply and lean against the wall, eyes closed.

He’s almost afraid to ask. “Did you, uh. Did you have fun?”

Shouyou doesn’t even bother opening his eyes. “He pisses m—”

“Language,” Bokuto says.

“He _annoys_ me,” Shouyou corrects himself. “But I’m still going to be friends with him.”

And, true to his word, Shouyou doesn’t give up. He keeps inviting Kageyama over for video games or homework or a movie – he’s there so often it’s almost as if he lives there. Even so, he still isn’t much more amiable than he was when Bokuto first met him. The most he’s ever said to him is a quick _hello_ or _goodbye_ , usually while scowling. He talks with Hinata, but their conversations seem to mostly consist of insults. 

Finally, one night at dinner, Bokuto asks the question he’s been wondering about for ages. “Why are you so determined to be friends with Kageyama-kun?”

Shouyou mulls over his answer for a moment. “Kageyama doesn’t have any friends,” he says, much more serious than a twelve year old should be. “I always thought that was sad. Then, that thing with his mom happened, and people started to make fun of him—”

“What happened with his mom?” Bokuto asks.

“She’s gone,” Hinata says. “He doesn’t like to talk about it, so I don’t really know the details, but I think she left to marry someone. Now he lives with his uncle, I think.”

“Poor kid,” Bokuto says. Kageyama might not be very friendly, but no child should be without parents. 

His own parents died a few years back. Even as an adult, Bokuto felt completely lost without them. He can’t imagine what that must be like for a twelve year old. 

The words are out before he even processes the thought. “Why don’t we invite Kageyama and his uncle over for dinner on Saturday?”

Shouyou’s face lights up at the suggestion, and any doubts Bokuto might have had disappear. “Really?”

“Really,” Bokuto says. 

“Can I make dessert?” Shouyou asks, eyes wide and guileless. It’s all lies, Bokuto knows – whenever Shouyou does cooking of any kind he leaves a disaster zone of a kitchen behind. 

But, God, those eyes remind him of Shouyou’s mother.

“Alright,” he gives in. He’s a weak, _weak_ man. “But only if you clean up after yourself.”

Shouyou agrees easily. It’s just more lies – the day Shouyou cleans the kitchen is the day pigs fly. It’s never going to happen. However, Bokuto can certainly dream. 

 

Akaashi doesn’t find out where Tobio spends his days until he tells him they’ve been invited over for dinner at a friend’s house. 

His first reaction is _I didn’t know you had friends_. Wisely, he chooses not to voice this thought. “Is that where you’ve been the past couple of weeks?”

“Yes,” Tobio mutters. All he ever does when he talks to Akaashi is mutter. 

It’d probably be a good idea to meet the people his nephew is spending all his time with, make sure they’re not crazy axe murderers. “Well. Tell – Shouyou?” Tobio nods in confirmation. “Tell Shouyou I’d be delighted to have dinner with him and his father.”

Tobio’s expression pulls into something that looks like annoyance but could just as easily be shock or anger, for all that Akaashi is able to read it. 

“Maybe we could invite them over here sometime?” Akaashi tries. Tobio seems to be in a good mood – at least, he hasn’t fled up to his room yet.

Tobio glares down at his plate. It’s another microwave dinner today. Akaashi almost never cooks and when he does, it’s usually a disaster.

“Or we could take them out?”

The door to the hallway shuts with a soft but decisive click. Akaashi glares at the half-full plate Tobio left behind, as if it’s somehow to blame for the disaster his life has become. 

 

They’re greeted at the door by a tiny ball of compressed energy and sunshine. Akaashi wonders how _anyone_ could stand to be around a person with so lively. Especially Tobio, who seemingly finds any kind of conversation longer than a few sentences exhausting. 

He doesn’t dwell on it for long, though, because right behind Shouyou is the man who steadied him when he was feeling most out of balance. 

A second that lasts an eternity passes before Akaashi manages a shaky, “Hello. You must be Bokuto-san.”

“And you must be Akaashi-san.” Bokuto’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. For a moment, Akaashi thinks that this is it, that Bokuto has completely forgotten their brief encounter in the hallway weeks before, but then—

“You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.” 

Akaashi’s breath catches in his throat. He’s pretty sure his heart actually skips a beat.

“I’m feeling better, too.” Lies. The paper with the psychologist’s number on it sits on his night stand; it’s the first thing he sees when he wakes up in the morning and it still never fails to make his stomach turn. 

“That’s good to hear,” Bokuto says. He smiles, and Akaashi can’t help smiling back. His facial muscles move without his consent – it’s like he’s a teenager again, completely unable to control himself in front of his crush. 

Tobio rolls his eyes so hard it almost has to be painful. He pushes past Bokuto and his son into the house, grumbling something that sounds suspiciously like curse words. He’s elbowed in the side by Shouyou when he passes him, which only causes him to grumble louder. 

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Akaashi says. It comes out a lot more flirtatious than he meant it to. Oh, God, he’s flirting with his nephew’s best friend’s father. When did his life become such a mess? 

Bokuto steps aside hastily. “Of course!”

He might just be projecting, but Akaashi swears he sees a blush appear on Bokuto’s cheeks. 

Akaashi lets his eyes deliberately sweep the entire length of Bokuto’s body as he steps past him into the house. This time, it’s definitely not his imagination – Bokuto’s face turns red as a strawberry. 

 

“You _like_ Kageyama’s uncle,” Shouyou states, after Akaashi and his nephew have left. He and Bokuto are cleaning up the kitchen together. As expected, Shouyou made a complete mess of it. But, honestly, the carrot cake he made was good enough that Bokuto is willing to help him clean up. 

That’s the only reason. Really.

Bokuto nearly drops the plate he’s holding. He spends a moment spluttering before he finally manages to say, “You didn’t warn me he was _hot_.”

Oh, yeah. Best dad ever, right there. 

“I’d never even met him,” Shouyou protests. He tries in vain to place the left-over icing on the top shelf of the fridge – the only one that has room for it. Without really thinking about it, Bokuto takes the icing from him and puts it there himself. It leaves his chest exposed, which Shouyou takes advantage of by poking a finger into it. “How was I supposed to know what he looked like?”

“You could have asked Kageyama-kun.” Bokuto rubs at the sore spot on his chest, pouting. 

Shouyou laughs. “Yeah, because that’s a normal thing to ask. _Hey, Kageyama, what’s the math homework for tomorrow? And, by the way, what does your uncle look like?_ Yeah,” he shakes his head. “No.”

They’re silent for a moment, during which Bokuto intensely regrets ever introducing his son to people who could teach him how to sass his own father – and by people he means Kuroo. 

“Seriously, though,” Shouyou says. “I think you should go for it.” 

“Really?”

“Totally.”

“Do you,” Bokuto pauses to clear his throat. He very deliberately looks straight ahead while he asks, “Do you think he likes me back?”

Shouyou contemplates this for a moment, before he pats his father on the shoulder. He has to stand on his toes to reach it. “I think he does.”

Then, with Shouyou’s hand still resting on his shoulder, Bokuto comes to the realization that his _twelve year old son_ is giving him _love advice_. He prays that Kuroo never finds out about this. 

 

A few days later, when Akaashi wakes up in the morning and sees the note with the psychologist’s phone number on it, he doesn’t feel like throwing up. He remembers what Takeda said about other parents and smiles up at his ceiling, where a single streak is illuminated by the early morning sun that just manages to peak through his curtains. 

He would have liked to call Bokuto immediately, but not having any way to contact him made that rather difficult. Eventually he remembers that the class list Tobio received at the beginning of the school year has everyone’s home numbers listed on it. After he gets home from work, Akaashi spends about an hour looking for that list. When he finds it, he immediately dials Bokuto’s home number.

Then he spends an eternity staring at the phone, hesitating. God, he’s such a mess.

He’s still sitting on the couch, phone in hand, when Tobio gets home. 

“What are you doing?” Tobio asks, standing in the doorway and looking at his uncle with something resembling disgust. He must have been with Shouyou again. Or maybe he was somewhere else entirely. Honestly, Akaashi has no idea what’s going on in his nephew's life.

“Just making a call,” Akaashi responds. 

“No, you’re not. You’re just staring at the phone.” It’s the most words Tobio has said to Akaashi since his mother left. Akaashi supposes he should be happy about this, but he doubts _this_ really counts as progress. 

“I guess you’re right,” Akaashi sighs. Then, because Tobio hasn’t left yet, he adds, “Were you with Shouyou-kun?”

Tobio grunts and leaves, shoulders drawn up close to his ears. Akaashi wishes he could solve his problems like that – just hunch his shoulders and leave. 

He can’t, though. Not anymore. 

With a sigh, he finally presses the call button.

Bokuto answers on the second ring. “Bokuto Koutarou speaking.” Over the phone, his voice has a kind of husky quality that almost makes Akaashi forget the reason for this call. A part of him just wants to keep Bokuto talking so he can hear more of his voice.

Another part thinks of Tobio, and how he flees every time Akaashi attempts to start a conversation.

“Hello, Bokuto-san. This is Akaashi.” When there’s no immediate reaction, Akaashi starts to feel uncomfortable. The feeling intensifies with every second that passes. “Um. Akaashi Keiji? Tobio’s uncle. We met the other night. I didn’t have your number, so I looked it up. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Bokuto says, voice oddly high-pitched. “It’s, uh. It’s fine. Perfect actually.”

“Good.” Akaashi tries his best to ignore the nervous fluttering in his stomach. “Because I actually wanted to ask you something. Would it be alright if I came over sometime?”

He should add that it’s completely platonic. He just wants parenting advice. This way, he’s making Bokuto think that he’s asking him on a _date_ , which isn’t what he wants at all.

Really. 

Bokuto makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like a squeak. “Yes! I mean, um. Shouyou is spending this weekend with his mother, so you could come over then. If you want.”

It’s good they're having this conversation over the phone, because Akaashi’s smile is so wide it’s bordering on embarrassing. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Great.” Bokuto’s voice has gone high-pitched again. It’s almost better than the low timbre from when he answered. “Then, maybe, Saturday evening? Around eight?”

“Works for me.” There’s so much more Akaashi wants to say. He wants to keep talking forever. “I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto says. “See you then.”

After he hangs up, Akaashi buries his head in the couch pillows and screams. 

 

He tries to remind himself that he’s thirty-six – a grown man, and _adult_ – but it’s no use. He already changed his shirt three times before he got in the car, and now that he’s standing in front of Bokuto’s door he’s wondering again if a dress shirt isn’t too fancy. Or, maybe it’s not fancy enough. Should he have worn a jacket?

The door opens, and all thoughts of clothing that don’t involve taking them off leave Akaashi’s mind. Bokuto has his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and his forearms are so magnificent they’re actually making Akaashi salivate. 

“Come in,” Bokuto says. He pushes the door open a little wider and, really, those arms just aren’t _fair_. 

“Thank you.” Akaashi tries desperately to sound like his brain isn’t screaming at him to just _have sex with him already_. He’s not sure how successful he is. Even so, Bokuto doesn’t seem to notice, or he’s just very good at hiding his reaction, because he sounds completely calm when he asks if Akaashi wants a glass of wine.

“Thank you,” he says again. It’s like his brain has forgotten how to form words. “I’d love some.”

“One glass of wine, coming right up,” Bokuto smiles and, dear God, he has dimples.

Yeah. Akaashi is really going to need some alcohol if he wants to get through this evening. 

Bokuto gestures toward the living room. It takes all of Akaashi’s willpower to keep from looking at his arms. “Go ahead and take a seat on the couch. I’ll be right back.” With that, he disappears into the kitchen. 

Akaashi knows that, if he doesn’t tell Bokuto the real reason he’s here now, he never will. And he has to.

He does.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Akaashi follows Bokuto into the kitchen. 

“Couldn’t wait?” Bokuto quips.

“Actually, Bokuto-san, I wanted to-” Akaashi pauses to clear his throat. “The reason I wanted to see you was to get some advice.”

Bokuto doesn’t look up from the wine he’s pouring. “Advice about what?”

“About parenting.” Bokuto looks up sharply, nearly spilling wine all over the counter, and Akaashi hurries to do damage control. “It’s just that, I’m still new to this whole parenting thing and to be honest I’m pretty terrible at it. You and Shouyou just seem really close, so I thought—” Realizing he’s rambling, Akaashi clamps his mouth shut. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, softly. “I know you were expecting – something different from tonight. I just want Tobio to stop hating me.”

“Kageyama-kun doesn’t hate you,” Bokuto says, suddenly. The wine bottle clicks against the countertop when he sets it down. “At least, that’s what I think. He’s probably just afraid you’re going to abandon him, too.” He hands one of the glasses of wine to Akaashi, keeping the other to himself. “Why don’t we have these conversation somewhere other than the kitchen?”

They’re fingers brush when Akaashi takes the glass. He nods, before taking a large swallow of wine to soothe his suddenly dry throat. 

 

“The key,” Bokuto had stated when they first settled onto the couch, full of conviction. “Is communication.”

Now, several hours and even more glasses of wine later, he’s winding down. The pauses in their conversation have been getting more frequent. Akaashi considers leaving – he has no reason to stay if Bokuto has given him all the advise he has to give. However, Bokuto’s arm is warm where it presses against his, and the buzz of alcohol in his brain somehow only serves to make him more aware of the sensation. 

“You know, Akaashi, I’ve been wondering.” Bokuto dropped the honorifics somewhere around the beginning of the third drink, and Akaashi hadn’t bothered to correct him. It had nothing at all to do with the little shiver that runs down his spine whenever Bokuto says his name like that. “What you’re sister did was real shitty. Kageyama is pissed at her, as he should be, but you have every right to be angry as well. So,” he looks at Akaashi with bright eyes, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “Why aren’t you?”

“I am angry,” Akaashi admits. “I had this grand plan for my life – meet a nice guy, fall in love, get married and maybe adopt a kid. Taking care of Tobio wasn’t part of that plan.”

“Falling in love, getting married,” Bokuto repeats, voice far-off and dreamy. “Is there some reason you can’t still do those things?”

“I have to take care of Tobio now. I have to consider how these things will affect him.” Akaashi takes a shuddering breath. “I can’t be selfish anymore.”

“Falling in love isn’t selfish.” Bokuto is suddenly very close. Akaashi doesn’t remember leaning in, but he must have, or maybe Bokuto did, because they’re close enough that Akaashi can feel his breath against his cheek. “If it really bothers you, you could just take it slow.”

He’s so distracted by the way Bokuto’s lips move around the words that it takes a while for them to sink in. “Is this taking it slow?”

“Maybe,” Bokuto murmurs. “If that’s what you want.”

Akaashi weighs his options – his desires against what’s best for Tobio, and decides that he can compromise a little. Slowly, he closes the distance between them to press their lips together in a chaste kiss. “It is,” he says, after he’s pulled away. “I want to take it slow, because – because I want _this_.”

“Me too. I want this,” Bokuto says. He slips his hand into Akaashi’s and laces their fingers together. 

For the first time since his sister left, Akaashi feels like all of this might actually work out.


End file.
